Moonlight and Waffles
by AnniePants
Summary: A tale of love, loss, new beginnings, Chopin, New Orleans, and Waffle House with a side of conspiracy...and a happy ending.:Season 7 MSR Completed!
1. Chapter 1

**This series takes place post-Closure, but branches off into its own universe sometime after that; so Requiem isn't going to happen and "Moonlight" will provide an alternate series ending.**

"…Yitgadal v'yitkadash shemi rabbah, Ever evolving and increasing in holiness are the many names of God within this intentionally created world. May awareness of this governing principle be in effect for the days of each life and the lives of all our people in a time that is quickly approaching. Let us affirm this faithful God…" The rabbi droned on in an endless monotone, and Dana Scully raised her eyes to scan the semi-circle of strange, glazed expressions of the mourners. All of them were elderly, and several patted their moist cheeks with embroidered handkerchiefs. She glanced up and to the left, keeping her head bowed, so she could inconspicuously observe Mulder. He stared straight ahead, his expression fixed and stony. Scully took his hand and squeezed gently, and his eyes met hers with an attempted half-smile. "May the one who makes cosmic harmony make this for us, our people and all residents of this planet. Let us affirm this faithful God." A hushed chorus of "Amens" echoed across the circle, and then everyone automatically formed a line beside the open grave. Mulder remained unmoving in his trance-like state as the mourners turned to wait for him to begin. Suddenly remembering his role in the service, he startled to attention and still grasping Scully's hand, led her to the front of the line. He had not been to many Jewish funerals; and though he was half Jewish himself, he knew little of their customs, since he'd been raised in an agnostic household. Yet this was what she had wanted. She wrote it in her will: a religious funeral after her childhood faith. He bent and scooped a handful of fresh earth into his palm and sprinkled it onto the coffin below. "Bye Mom…" he whispered.

Mulder and Scully remained under the burial canopy until the last of Teena's cronies and bridge companions paid their respects and offered a handshake or hug. Several commented on how lucky Fox was to have such a beautiful, adoring wife at his side, and after the fourth compliment, the partners gave up trying to explain their situation and simply smiled and nodded. When it was at last just the two of them with the groundskeepers, Mulder breathed out a small sigh.

"We had this ritual when I was really young. When we were living in Chilmark, before she changed and before we were distant- before Samantha…Whenever there was a thunderstorm late at night, she would come into my room and wake me. She'd make me a mug of her famous cocoa that tasted like melted Hershey's, and we'd sit together in the old, creaky rocking chair on the screened porch. I remember resting my head on her chest and listening to the beating of her heart… I remember feeling the spray of the sweet summer rain and being bathed in the flashes of light between cracks of thunder and counting the seconds…I remember when life was simple and safe…. After Samantha disappeared, Mom was never the same…she would have these fits of depression and lock herself in her bedroom, so I traveled with my father a great deal… I've barely spoken to her in years. I hardly ever called or visited; I knew next to nothing about her daily life… I mean, Jesus, you were the only person I recognized at her funeral."

"Mulder, she was your mother. She knew you loved her."

"I guess. I don't know…Um, I have to decide what to do with the house and everything. She left it all to me, but I suppose I'll just sell it; it's not like I'd ever go back. I need to drive up there in the next few days though to sort through all of her belongings. Do you think that maybe you could, if you don't mind… I mean if it wouldn't be any trouble…"

"Of course I'll come with you."

"Thank you," he said softly and gently took her hand once more.

Scully gazed through the pitch-black room and fixed her bleary eyes on the shadows of a Renoir print on the opposite wall. She squirmed restlessly under the cream silk comforter and tossed her body over in a fruitless attempt to find sleep. After willing her eyes shut and relaxing her breathing, she sighed in defeat and grabbed the cell phone from the nightstand to check the time-3:17. Older, unfamiliar houses always made her a bit uneasy, though most likely she was on edge because Teena Mulder had committed suicide in an adjacent sitting room. Mulder was asleep in his old childhood bedroom just across the hall and knowing that he was near helped her feel slightly more at ease.

They had had an excruciatingly long day of moving and covering furniture, packing all sorts of knick-knacks in boxes, and discarding expendable items that were serving no purpose except taking up space. Mulder had not engaged in much conversation as he sorted through the remnants of his mother's life, and Scully almost wished that he would break down and cry once more; his silence worried her. They had paused their exertions for a brief dinner of turkey sandwiches, and then finally called it a day at one a.m. After the obligatory exchange of goodnights in the upstairs hallway, Scully secretly wished that he would truly allow her to comfort him; that he would invite her to share his bed and cradle her in his strong arms until morning. But, of course, he would never initiate something so forward, and to be honest, neither would she. She closed her eyes and smiled at the memory of the soft brush of his lips against hers. It hadn't meant anything, only a New Year's peck between close friends, but what if there was something more? She had felt a tiny spark of energy at that intimate contact and had been rendered speechless. Did he sense it too?

A distant, haunting melody slowly embraced Scully's ears. She recognized it immediately: the first movement of Moonlight Sonata emanating from the parlor and flowing up the spiral staircase. Mulder was probably just watching television, though the sound of the piano seemed to echo and resonate. Scully, her curiosity awakened, pulled the comforter aside and stepped out of bed. Gooseflesh prickled lightly up her bare arms not only from the cool air of the drafty guestroom, but also from the chills that the evocative serenade provoked. She grabbed her robe from the back of the old rocker and headed for the stairs.

Mulder lovingly traced his fingers over the black and white keys of his mother's baby grand. He hadn't played in years, but much like the cliché of riding a bike, he had never forgotten the music. His eyes fluttered shut and his hands began to move with a will of their own. The loud ringing of the first chord in the hushed room startled him, and he stopped himself quickly so as not to wake Scully; she had appeared to be sleeping when he'd peeked into the guestroom before he wandered downstairs. But at that moment, he longed for a familiarity, for a home that had been lost to him long ago; so he took a seat at the bench, awkwardly stooped over the keys, and began to play the first thing he remembered.

When he finished, he slowly opened his eyes and turned sharply at the sound of a creak on the staircase. Scully stood silently frozen with one hand on the oak banister. Moonlight cascaded from the bay window behind her, silhouetting her form in an ethereal glow. Sparkles of light danced in her wavy auburn hair, and she appeared to be wearing a crown of soft fire; and flecks of glitter shone in her pale sapphire eyes. Mulder sucked in his breath at the sight. He had always found her beautiful, but at that moment she was angelic. He forced himself to give her a crooked smile and fumbled to find words.

"I, uh…I'm sorry I woke you. Come on down…I mean if you want. I can make you some tea or something," he stuttered. _Damn it, Mulder. Tact. You've worked with this woman for seven years and you know her better than anyone. Why are nervous?_, he silently chastised himself.

She padded down the steps and sat on the antique rose sofa, pulling her knees up underneath her. Mulder studied her face in the yellow glow of lamplight and gasped worriedly at the tears that streaked her cheeks.

"Scully what is it? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine…I'm sorry, I don't usually…that was beautiful, Mulder. Why have you never played for me before?"

"Well, I don't have a piano for starters. And I stopped playing a long time ago. My parents forced me to take lessons when I was a kid, and I hated it then, but now I guess it's sort of a comfort…finding it again."

"Play something else."

"Sure. What would you like to hear?"

"Anything. It doesn't matter. Just play."

"Okay…let's see, what do I remember…how about Chopin? Raindrop Prelude. Chopin's preludes are said to be the sound of tears."

Mulder turned and allowed his hands to resume their familiar dance with the ivory keys, and his soul seeped through the tips of his fingers. The powerful melody built from a haunting whisper to a heartbreaking catharsis, and at its resolution Mulder no longer bothered to censor his tears. He wept because his parents and sister were gone, and all that was left of a family was the mere shell of this house and the memories it held. He rested his head on the keys as he sobbed lightly, and he felt Scully scoot next to him on the bench and drape an arm over his shaking shoulders. He slowly raised his head and turned to face her, cupping her cheeks with his palms, and she held his gaze for what could have been seconds or minutes, or perhaps, even hours. All inhibitions were released from his brain before he had a chance to analyze the situation, and in a quick move of uncharacteristic assuredness, he tilted his head and leaned closer. The kiss began as a delicate whisper on their lips, their mouths softly meeting in a light brush. An electricity of long-ignored passion danced between them, and they deepened the contact gradually until their mouths opened in helpless surrender. After an endless moment, Scully gently pulled away.

"Dana, I'm sorry. I just, I…"

She brought her finger to his lips and smiled.

"Shhh" She took his face in her hands and kissed his forehead before standing and offering him her hand. "Let's have a cup of tea. Or cocoa. Whichever you prefer."

Please forgive me; the updates will be a bit slow, because classes are crazy and I'm doing a show right now. My goal is a chapter a week. Thanks for reading, and feedback is awesome. : )


	2. Chapter 2

"What the hell is Skinner thinking? This is a waste of our time and expertise! There's no X File here. It's simple surveillance work that a couple of rookie cops could handle easily- a drug bust for christsake!" Mulder exclaimed in exasperation as he threw the file on the desk and paced around their basement office. They had been back at the Bureau for a week and had basically just been filling out paper work every day, since no cases of interest were surfacing despite Mulder's constant digging. Their moonlit kiss the week before had not been mentioned; no two individuals succeeded more at the "ignore-it- and -it'll- get –easier" game like Mulder and Scully.

Scully sighed and struggled to keep her eyes on her exuberant partner as he bounded about the room. "Mulder, calm down. It's not like we have any other cases to be working on now, anyway. Skinner said no other agents could be spared. And drug trafficking is a federal crime."

"Okay fine. Well if we're really being shipped to New Orleans for the weekend to just sit and watch a building, then I'm conducting my own investigation."

"Investigating what, exactly?"

"The spirit of the Voodoo priestess Marie Laveau haunts the French Quarter and Jackson Square, you know. She died in March, so guess what month has the most sightings? And, even better, she was hanged exactly 200 years ago last week!"

"Mulder, please. For once, just once, can we have a simple, no-nonsense, open and shut case that doesn't involve dredging up some myth or creature or conspiracy?

"What would you rather do? Really, I'm open to suggestion. We could check out Bourbon Street, I hear there's great beer, or watch some shows in the square, or hey, how about a lovely Greyline tour?" he quipped sarcastically.

Scully shook her head and sighed loudly, knowing all to well the pointlessness of debating him during one of these moods, so she silently rummaged through the desk for a pen to finish the follow up research on her last field report. Unable to locate a writing utensil, she stood, dodged Mulder's stomping course, climbed onto the other side of the desk, and wordlessly reached for a pencil that dangled from the ceiling.

"Mulder, I can't hear myself think with the Knicks game blaring. Turn it off!"

"No, I think your hearing difficulties are due to the torrential downpour outside, not the radio. And what do you have to think about anyway? We're sitting in a parked car gawking at an abandoned apartment building like we're waiting for it to move or something. Nope, not much thought required in this assignment."

Scully hurled him her classic "cross me and die" glare, leaned forward to switch the button off herself, and continued perusing the stack of papers in her lap. She flipped through the mug shots of the Russian mafia members who had apparently set up an illicit substance business in the Big Easy. A large group had been arrested several years before in Brooklyn, and those that escaped or were lucky enough to win parole had moved the operation to a new southern market. Mulder and Scully's assignment was to stakeout what was believed to be one of their centers of commerce. So far, after six cups of coffee, nine hours of talk radio, and the partners grating on each other's nerves with Mulder's pouting and Scully's irritability, no conspicuous activity had been observed.

"Come on, Scully. This place is dead; nothing's happening-they probably knew the cops were onto them and I bet they switched venues a week ago. At the very least let's just take a break. Please. I can't handle another hour in this car. We should go exploring or sightseeing. I mean, we're in one of the most fascinating cities in America, not to mention one of the most haunted. Live a little."

"We've discussed this. Multiple times. I did not come here to go on a ghost hunt with you. Our assignment is to watch this building, and while it may not be the most amusing activity on the planet, it's what we're being paid to do- to catch these people. If we leave, we risk missing a lead, and we can't afford that." Scully struggled to keep her voice steady to cover the prominent traces of frustration. Typically Mulder's rants and unwillingness to follow protocol did little else except amuse her. She was usually up for indulging him or winning a game of Devil's Advocate; Scully prided herself in her ability to bludgeon anyone's ass at logic. So one day in a parked car with her eccentric partner shouldn't drive her batty to this degree. After all, he was her best friend if nothing more; so she wondered why she felt the need to yell or cry, or maybe shake him a little.

"Fine Scully. You do what you want, but I'm taking a stroll." He unlocked the door and grabbed the handle, but not before giving her his best "don't you want to come play" smirk.

"Bye Mulder. Walk around aimlessly in the pouring rain if you really want to." He shrugged, reached into the backseat for the umbrella, and slammed the door at his dramatic exit. _Why do I feel like I'm babysitting?_ She questioned herself in exasperation. _And why can't we just talk about our feelings like two normal human beings? I'm sick of this passive aggressive bullshit…What if he regrets what happened, and that's why he's avoiding the issue?_ Scully reached for the door handle and quickly restrained herself. _No, I will not give into this. I will sit here and do my job. _She glanced back at the abandoned building. _Oh hell._

Mulder slowed his gait and surreptitiously threw glances over his shoulder to see if the plan was working yet. After seven years, he had become quite an expert at pushing her buttons when necessary. Honestly, he wasn't as ticked off about this case as he let on; if nothing else it allowed for time alone with Scully, which he knew they needed. There were things to discuss and decisions to be made that the two of them wouldn't actually instigate unless they were thrown into a situation with nothing else to do. He'd been trying to get her out of that damn car all day.

"Mulder, wait a minute!" He turned, feigning surprise at the slam of the car door and the sound of her little feet scurrying over the pavement for the shelter of his umbrella. _Victory!_ he thought. "What are you doing?" he said.

"What are _you_ doing? Don't tell me strolling around North Rampart Street at midnight in a thunderstorm. You're avoiding me."

"I think the weather's lovely." _Nice Mulder. Spoken like a true smartass. _"Avoiding you? Uh, no, actually Scully, if you'll remember correctly, I've been trying to get you to come with me."

"Well then tell me where you're going."

"Jackson Square. To look for Marie Laveau," he said nonchalantly. Mulder walked brusquely as he spoke so that Scully had no choice but to keep up in order to stay under the umbrella.

"Alright. If you want to play Ghostbusters, I suppose I'll follow you. Just like always."

Mulder hesitated, but forced himself to keep going. The hint of bitterness in her voice disturbed him. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"You're always running, Mulder. Always chasing the next phantom, and for seven years, I have trailed after you, struggling to keep up. Do you ever wonder what you're really trying to escape from? I mean, you can't say it's about finding something anymore. You have the answers- your Truth with a capitol 'T'."

Mulder felt his face grow hot, and desperately tried to keep his temper in check. "You think I should just abandon my work because now I know Samantha is dead? She may be the reason I started working on the X Files, but it sure as hell doesn't end there. I may have found the answers about the conspiracy and even colonization, but that's only the beginning. Now it's about gathering evidence and proving what I've discovered in order to prevent these things from happening."

"No. That's not what it's about. Marie Laveau, Mulder? You're acting like a child- chasing some fantasy for kicks and calling it legitimate investigation-running from what's really happening in your life. You focus on the future and what you can do to change it, but what about now? What about your life and your feelings? It's not all about the work, Mulder- don't tell me that. You're running away from me. From us. From what's happening."

"Scully if you're going to talk about hiding from emotions, then you'd better work on yourself first. You've never been honest with me about how you feel. Whenever I want to help you or get close to you, you just say "I'm fine, Mulder" and then push me away. If I'm avoiding something, then you're just as guilty." Arguing with Scully was not part of the master plan, but once he got started, Mulder couldn't stop himself.

"Well, let's be honest now… Ok, the kiss. I want to discuss the kiss. You-we've-been pretending it never happened. Where did it come from?" she asked.

"You're acting like this is a one-sided thing. You kissed me back."

"Fine, but you initiated it, and I want to know why."

"I'm sorry it's so repulsive to you now." He said through gritted teeth. Mulder knew he was being unfair and was purposely dodging honest questions, but he was frustrated at his inability to convey his feelings and motives in words. She had to know he loved her- after all of this time, after all they'd been through together, why was she questioning him and accusing him of avoidance?

"Stop it! That's not what I'm saying and you know it!"

Mulder turned his head away from her and sulked silently. He allowed his gaze to travel to the top of a steeple against the murky sky. At some point in the conversation, they had arrived in Jackson Square and now stood in front of the ancient cathedral. The raindrops continued to pound from the heavens in heavy sheets. A powerful gust of wind blew the umbrella inside out, and several metal spokes were bent beyond repair. Mulder was left holding the remnants of their shelter in his hand as he and Scully became soaked from head to toe. Neither of them seemed to notice.

"Grow up Mulder. Stop turning this into a fight."

"You brought it up! You know Scully, you can be a bitch…" As soon as the words escaped his lips, he would have made love with the flukeman to take them back. Scully, obviously hurt, stood speechless. He saw a crinkle between her brows, and for one horrifying moment, he thought he might have made her cry. She quickly composed herself in true Scully fashion, turned away from him, and slowly began to walk in the direction from which they'd come. She stopped, and said quietly so that he had to strain to hear,

"Mulder, you've always told me you could trust me because I tell you the truth. Well, the truth is- I think you're afraid of what you feel for me. You don't want to be hurt and you don't want to risk change, so you run. I'm done chasing Mulder. Goodnight."

When she turned once more to continue her solitary journey back to the car, they both heard it. The distinct cocking of a revolver echoed through the empty square. Both agents reached for their weapons a moment too late. A shot rang out from the north side of the square before they could get their bearings enough to dodge the bullet. Scully sucked in her breath sharply and then she stumbled, dazed and wavering, but she didn't fall. Mulder moved so quickly that he stopped thinking, and he was sure his heart stopped beating as panic deflated the air from his chest. He wrapped his arms around her to steady her shaking body and pressed his palm against the upper left side of her torso between her breast and shoulder where the blood flowed. She tried to stay conscious as her eyes began to lose focus, and she finally slumped against Mulder's body, her head lolling against his chest. "Scully-Scully stay with me. I'm gonna get you to a hospital and everything will be fine. Scully…SCULLY!"


	3. Chapter 3

He folded his hands in his lap and intertwined his fingers, then spread them on his thighs, tapping harshly. Every few seconds he raised his right hand to comb through his hair anxiously. An elderly woman toying with her needle point cleared her throat and glared at him through wire-rimmed spectacles. Mulder realized that he'd been tapping his feet as well and was creating quite a racket on the vinyl floor--an obvious bundle of nervous energy. He focused an immense amount of effort on pressing the soles of his feet against the floor, creating tension through the muscles in his legs to abstain from movement.

The clothing ensemble he was currently sporting was managing to turn a few curious heads: hospital gown, dress slacks so wet they stuck to his skin, and shoes that left a puddle trail after him due to the water that squished through his socks. The striped button-down shirt he'd been wearing was still with Scully; he'd tied it around her chest to act as a tourniquet against the blood loss. He had surely been a sight for the EMTs when they had finally arrived. After he'd called, he was convinced they were taking far too long and decided to take matters into his own hands. He'd scooped Scully's limp body into his arms and had begun to sprint in the direction of the car. So there he'd been-shirtless, screaming, bloody, and running for dear life holding an unconscious woman, when the ambulance managed to catch up with him.

Mulder turned his hands over to inspect his palms and found they still bore the horrible crimson stains. He squeezed his eyes shut and remembered the nightmarish journey to County General Hospital. _He didn't let go of her hand; they had to move around him as they worked on her, and he did the only thing he could: ramble. "Scully, this is nothing. You can do this; you've been through much worse. Please Dana. You're the only one I trust, my one in 5 billion, my touchstone, remember? This is not the end. This cannot be all there is. You have so much life ahead of you--we have so much to do—and I'm not talking about the X Files; I don't give a damn about any of it. I won't let tonight be the end for you-for us. What I said-oh god-I…please know that I love you…please…"_

_When they arrived at the emergency bay, a team of nurses and doctors pushed him away when he tried to follow. "Are you her husband?" a blonde nurse asked._

"_No…she's…she's my partner. We're FBI agents."_

"_You'll have to stay in the waiting area, sir. Someone will give you an update shortly."_

Mulder checked his watch: 31 minutes and 43 seconds since he last saw her

"Excuse me…Mr….uh….Mulder?" Mulder jumped to his feet and raced toward the bald man in the white coat. "I'm Dr. Pearlman. I worked on your partner."

"How is she?"

"She's upstairs in surgery now, and although she's not completely out of danger yet, but I'm very optimistic. Dr. Scully is extremely lucky. The bullet was obviously intended for her heart, and was only a few inches too high. Fortunately, it was also too far to the left, so it missed the major arteries. It perforated just below her collar bone and lodged in her scapula. There was some minor arterial injury and probably nerve damage as well."

"But she's going to be okay?"

"Yes, I think so. She'll need physical therapy, but she should be fine."

Mulder released all of the tension in his body in one enormous, cleansing sigh, and smiled.

"Thank you. Thank you so much."

The light seeped into her consciousness with a biting awareness. Death was not a possibility, because the feelings were too intense. The pain wasn't excruciating or throbbing with intensity; it was more of a constant ache surrounded in a mist of drugs and fatigue. The world had transformed into a void of dull whiteness, muffled noises, and nauseating antiseptic odors. She tried to speak through the haze of this new existence, but the words couldn't vibrate through parched vocal chords. A buzzing hum managed to escape her lips, and she struggled to move her numb joints. A male voice echoed from far away. _He's holding my hand_. _Dad?_ She thought. _No, Ahab's dead. It can't be Daddy. Because I'm not dead._ The logic slowly began to surface through murky surrealism. She willed her eyes to remain open and focus on the looming figure that was blocking out the light. Gradually his features came into her vision, and if she was able, she would have burst out with laughter at the sheer boyish joy in his face.

"Scully? It's me—Mulder. You just had surgery—well, a few hours ago. Right now you're coming out of anesthesia. Everything's okay. Do you remember what happened? Can you hear me, Scully?"

"Water." she croaked

Mulder quickly grabbed the pitcher on a rolling cart beside the bed, poured a small cup, held Scully's head forward, and gently tilted the cup back for her. The liquid dribbled down her chin, and he gingerly wiped it away with the back of his hand.

"Better?" he asked.

Scully tried to nod, but the attempt made her dizzy.

"Hospital gown on you—why? Hurt?"

He smiled. "Nope, I'm good. Not a scratch. I just lost my shirt, so they're letting me borrow this, and I think I look incredibly sexy—don't you agree? You're a bit banged up, but you're gonna be just fine. The bullet got you near the collar bone and shoulder, and the doctor says that with some therapy, you'll be able to get most function back... Well, someone was using you for target practice. I think we were followed from the stakeout by a crazy Russian drug lord, of sorts. But anyway, there's plenty of time to go into that. How do you feel? Are you in pain?"

"I feel drugged. No pain really."

"That's good. If you start to hurt, just tell me and I'll get the doctor…You really scared me, Dana. I thought…I'm just so happy that you're alright. And…I guess now's not the best time to go into it…but what we talked about—if you remember…what I said…"

"You're right. Now is a bad time."

"I just want to tell you that I did it—the kiss—I did it because I'm tired of not showing you what I'm feeling… when I'm with you it's like everything makes sense and…I feel like I'm home. Like Chopin. God, that doesn't make any sense, does it? Damn it, um…You make my life worth living. No matter how shitty things get sometimes, seeing you everyday keeps me going—makes me happy. The thought of losing you…I can't even…I don't know how to exist without you. You're my perfect other. I don't know why it's so hard to just put this into words… I guess, what it is …what I'm trying to say is that…I love you."

His words turned into a stream of jargon as blackness tugged at her consciousness. Long before he finished, she was sleeping again.

"Just looking at this bullet I can tell you it came from a .22 caliber double action revolver." Danny leaned back in his chair and squinted his eyes as he rolled the small piece of metal around his palm. Mulder stood against the wall, arms folded, brow creased, and chewed on his lower lip.

"That's odd though, isn't it? Most organized crime circles have upgraded to the semi-auto these days. I didn't know revolvers were still around."

"Oh yeah. They're cheaper, for starters, and they also tend to be more reliable; six-guns hold up longer…what is it, Mulder?"

"I'm just wondering, what if someone was using this weapon to cover their tracks? They could have been trying to make it look like whoever pulled the trigger was just some poor, ignorant member of another drug conspiracy—using a cheap, simple weapon. In that case motive would be simple: forcing two annoying FBI agents to back off. But I have a hunch that this was more calculated than that. It's just too much of a coincidence that Scully and I were the targets after everything we've seen and learned from the X Files."

"You are so paranoid, Mulder."

"How long will it take to run this through ballistics? Do you think we'll get a match?"

"I can probably have it done by tonight—tomorrow morning at the latest. A match is possible, but if we do get one, it means this guy is sloppy."

"Or intentionally sloppy…" Mulder frowned, unable to shake the uneasiness.

"How is Agent Scully doing? Will she be back to work soon?"

"She's doing a lot better. Her left arm is pretty much immobile for now, but she's already started therapy; so there'll be a great deal of improvement over the next couple of weeks. The doctor told her to take this week off, but you know Scully, she'll be back tomorrow."

"Sounds great…well I'll go ahead and get started on this so I can get back to you as soon as possible."

"Thanks Danny."

Scully struggled to manage keeping her purse on her shoulder, hold a bottle of water, and open the door all at once with one hand. Mulder must have overheard her losing battle (complete with uncharacteristic cursing interjections) from inside their office, because he quickly appeared to hold the door open for her. He took her purse from her and set it on a chair.

"How are you feeling?"

"Aside from being pissed off at this sling, I feel fine."

"Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea? A bagel with light cream cheese?"

She couldn't help but smile. "No, I'm fine. Did you hear from Danny?"

"Yes. The results are quite interesting. The bullet came from a gun registered to one Ivan Vatseev."

"Is that supposed to sound familiar?"

"Well no, but I did some digging last night, and there appears to be more to our friend Ivan than ties to the Russian mafia. He has worked as an assassin in various circles of power, and in three of his jobs I have discovered ties with Alex Krycek. Apparently they worked as partners several years ago, which means this guy could also have connections to the Syndicate."

"There is no Syndicate anymore. They're all dead…with the possible exception of C.G.B—the Smoking Man, and it isn't like he can do anything on his own now. We can stop reaching on this one, Mulder. Even if the shooter has ties to Krycek, I still think this was just an isolated event with a clear motive. If the conspiracy were still alive, what more could they want from us anyway?"

"Maybe you're right, but I don't want to take any chances. This case is staying open, and I'm not going to stop searching until something conclusive turns up…Scully, you really shouldn't be back so soon. We aren't busy at all. Why don't you take some more time and I'll cover for you?"

She had to restrain herself from snapping at him. Of course he only wanted to help, but he could seem a little patronizing. Scully's greatest fear was feeling helpless and dropping her stoic façade. However, his puppy-sweet hazel eyes melted her annoyance away immediately, and the familiar warm tingling sensation spread through her chest, making her heart beat faster. _Stop it, Dana. He doesn't want you, and you have too much dignity to chase him._

"I'm fine Mulder. Really. Why should I sit at home and do nothing when I can easily do that here?"

She smiled and silently took her seat at the desk.

Two weeks passed without any leads on the shooting, and Mulder had begun to accept Scully's Occam's-Razor conclusion. Most of the Bureau agreed that Vatseev and other mafia members had probably managed to escape out of the country since there were no updates on their activities. Mulder and Scully had handled three X Files cases from their office, all of which turned out to be some kind of apparent hoax and didn't require traveling. So for the past few days, they had been banished once again to the art of paper pushing. Scully's mood was much improved, because she was finally able to rid herself of the arm sling, and it was at last a good time for Mulder to put his plans in action.

He wanted to do something special for her, to show her what he was unable to say. He'd thought of gifts, but nothing he could buy would do. The idea for the trip came to him three days before, and every time he was about to ask her, he chickened out at the last second. He watched her typing at her laptop and pretended to be working at the desk.

"Mulder, what is it?" She threw him a curious glance and a furrow of her brow.

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"You're staring at me with that weird expression again."

"Can't the cat look at the queen?"

"Mulder, you don't have any reports done, do you? Have you even started?"

He looked away and shrugged his shoulders innocently. _Come on. Do it now. Just ask. The worst that can happen is she says no…please don't say no._ Mulder took a deep breath and casually cleared his throat.

"When was the last time you took a vacation Scully?"

"Vacation? I don't know."

"Yeah vacation. You know, it's that thing people go on to get away from their hectic lives. And on vacation another thing can happen called relaxation. Just because you and I don't partake in this strange phenomena doesn't mean it can't exist."

"What are you getting at Mulder?"

"Well, since we both have three years of vacation leave stored up, I was thinking we could take a nice break from the paper work for a few days."

"And do what, exactly?"

"Go somewhere to relax …um, together. To get away from the stress of the past month."

"Mulder, I-"

"You don't want to. That's okay. You're probably right. We have a lot to do around here anyway."

"I'm not saying no… So where are we going?"


	4. Chapter 4

"Oh my god Mulder. It's beautiful."

The lazy morning sunlight danced in patches of golden glitter on the lake's rippling surface. Ancient pines from the surrounding forest reflected in the clear water to create swirls of emerald and azure that gently lolled back and forth in the light breeze. The air carried a sweet freshness of spruce and pine and spring honeysuckle. No sounds of man or technology interrupted nature's peaceful respite—only the calling of birds among the trees and the whisper of the water could be heard in the stillness.

Mulder had not slipped any clues of their destination until they arrived at Lake Ninevah in Okemo, Vermont, when Scully was finally able to see it for herself. He had shown her the quaint oak cabin first before strolling down the hill to the lakeshore. This was one of Mulder's favorite places. He had been to Ninevah several times, but seeing it again always managed to take his breath away. His family vacationed here once when he was about ten, and since then he'd returned on his own to think, soul search, and connect with nature. He longed to share his secret place with Scully, to make it "theirs" instead of just "his".

"Let's go back to the cabin and unpack, and we can make some sandwiches for an early lunch. And after that, how about hiking? I'll show you the trails."

"Sure," she murmured, still in awe.

Mulder rummaged through the drawers in the tiny kitchen for a spoon large enough to stir the salmon vodka sauce. It was a well-known fact that when Mulder threatened to cook, anyone in a one mile vicinity should run quickly in the opposite direction. However, there were a few selected dishes he had perfected over the years out of the necessity to impress, and they all happened to be various pastas. As he prepared to test a noodle by sticking it to the wall, Scully emerged from her bedroom clad in a nice pair of jeans and a low-cut, black V-neck blouse. They had had a long day of hiking (without much conversation other than congenial small talk) and she had insisted on a shower before dinner. Her damp hair fell in loose waves above her shoulders, and her eyes, cheeks, and lips were naturally made up with earthy tones. Mulder realized he had frozen in his ministrations to admire her, but he quickly got back to work so she wouldn't feel uncomfortable. She smiled and shyly dropped her eyes at his gaze.

"It smells good Mulder. I'm sorry to admit that I'm surprised."

"You're going to love this Scully. I promise. And there's another surprise-look in the fridge."

She raised a curious eyebrow as she opened the refrigerator door and then gasped when she lifted the bottle.

"St. Emilion Red Bordeaux? This wine is incredibly expensive, Mulder."

"That's why I don't have it that often."

"You didn't have to do this."

He smiled. "I know."

"So really, Mulder, what's all this about?" she said with her mouth partially full.

He took a sip of wine and regarded her innocently across the round pine dining table. "What's what about?"

"This trip, this delicious dinner, the wine…"

"Only the best for you Scully. I want you to have a relaxing vacation. And…and I really enjoy spending time with you when we're not working on a case. I love just talking with you—really talking. We hardly ever do that."

"I know…we should do it more."

Mulder dabbed vodka sauce off of the corners of his mouth, dropped his cloth napkin on his plate, and pushed his chair back from the table and stood. "Let's go night swimming—when you're finished. The weather's beautiful, and you can't find better stargazing anywhere."

"Swimming? Mulder I don't know. I didn't bring a bathing suit."

"Are you afraid to let me see your underwear? Come on, it's no big deal."

"I just took a shower."

Mulder gave her the puppy eyes. She never said no to the puppy eyes.

"Sure…why not?"

"Is it cold?" Scully stood on the grassy shore with a towel wrapped around her. She felt oddly self-conscious at the prospect of swimming with him in her bra and panties. He had seen her naked before-once in quarantine and once in Antarctica. But this felt incredibly intimate, and Scully tended to run from situations in which she felt that she was baring too much of herself, so to speak. _I trust him. I want to let go._

"No, it's warm. Jump in Scully, it feels nice."

She sighed, threw the towel behind her before she could change her mind, and tentatively stepped into the shimmering moonlit lake. The water was surprisingly warm and relaxing as it flowed and caressed over her tense body. She leisurely treaded toward Mulder, who proceeded to splash playfully, wetting her hair.

"Cut it out!" She cried between fits of giggles. She splashed back, turning it into a game of dodge-the-wave. He surrendered first, letting her triumph, and did a backstroke to the center of the small lake. He floated on his back, looking up, and suddenly appeared serious and contemplative.

"There's the Big Dipper. The bright one in the western sky is Jupiter. And directly overhead—that's Cassiopeia—can you see her chair?"

Scully strained her neck to look up and nodded.

"Try floating on your back and looking up. All you can see is the sky. It's almost like peeking through a curtain into another world."

"I can't float on my back. It makes me feel like I'm falling and I always sort of panic and flip over when I try."

"Come here Scully."

She did a breast stroke over to where he floated as he maneuvered himself to standing. The water was too deep for Scully when she reached the center of the lake, so she was forced to tread. Mulder swam to meet her and gently wrapped one arm around her back and placed the other behind her knees so that he was carrying her weightless body.

"Just lay back. It's okay. I've got you," he said softly.

Scully leaned back until she was laying flat with Mulder's arms beneath her. She sighed with contentment and gazed into the infinite heavens, the water lapping gently around her.

"When I take time to really look at the stars, I always wonder what's on the other side looking back. I'm not talking about aliens—I can almost feel the creative presence out there somewhere...As far as my spirituality is concerned, I've always jumped between atheism and agnosticism. It used to make perfect sense to me that existence in itself is arbitrary. That the elements to create life happened to exist on this planet, and by that definition we have also come to exist. And the others, wherever they come from, just happened to go through a similar evolutionary process. But now—I have come to believe that there is a greater plan. Something is out there that's bigger than us or them. Something started this…we're here for a reason…and I can find peace in that, even though I can't find the truth…the answers…Do you believe in God, Scully?"

"Well, it's what I was raised to believe, and when I was younger I would have said yes without question. I've always been so afraid of death…I wanted to believe that there was Heaven and salvation, so that if I died or lost a loved one, we could all be together again in the end—our existence and our bonds would continue. But now I'm not so sure. I've seen so many horrible things in the profession I've chosen, and I wonder, would God let this happen? I used to carry a lot of guilt …when Melissa died, I felt responsible. And I guess I was, indirectly at least. I used to have nightmares where I would hear her screaming and asking me why I had done this to her. Then when I got cancer and the ability to have children was stolen from me and when Emily…I thought it was God's way of punishing me for Melissa… But now I know that what happened to her wasn't my fault, and she doesn't blame me. Wherever she is, I know she doesn't blame me. She loves me and I will always love her. So…God? I don't know. I just don't know."

They shared a powerful silence, and as they did so often, connected without words. Mulder slowly walked through the lake, still holding Scully as she floated.

"What made you start to fear death?" he asked softly. "Did you lose someone when you were young?"

"I remember the exact moment. I was four years old, and my mother was reading me Charlotte's Web. When she got to the end, to the part where Charlotte-the spider- dies, I burst into tears. I looked up at my mom and said "Mommy, am I going to die?" And she said "Yes." That was the first time I really got it. How temporary our lives are—and it scared me. I suppose it still does."

"That's why you don't like people to get too close to you. You're afraid of loss," he said.

"Maybe. I've always held back with people. I don't know if I've ever really been in love in any relationship that I've had."

"Love is a risk."

"I'm not going to do it anymore—hold back, I mean."

The partners shared another contemplative silence until Mulder spoke.

"Are you about ready to go in? We can dry off in front of the fire."

"Sure."

Mulder positioned her so that she was treading water upright once more. She wrapped her arms around his neck and his arm was still on her waist while he swam to a shallow area where she was able to stand. Scully retrieved her towel from the grass at a leisurely pace, having a sudden desire for Mulder to notice her body.

Mulder started the gas in the small hearth, and the tiny fire crackled and bathed the room in a comforting orange glow. He silently turned to watch Scully and saw the reflection of the flame flicker in her eyes and shine in her wet auburn hair. The towel was wrapped around her like a Greek goddess. Suddenly, she broke the silence.

"Have you ever been in love? In any relationship you've had?"

He ran a hand through his hair, spiking it unintentionally, and thought for a moment before he answered.

"Yes…I loved Phoebe. I was young and trusting and idealistic, and I let myself fall in love. It was all a game to her. I was serious and she was playing, so of course she broke my heart. I didn't love anyone I dated after that. My relationship with Diana was the most serious one after Phoebe, well of all three people I've dated since Phoebe, but I didn't love her. I cared for her, but I never loved her."

He wanted to add—_I've never loved anyone like I love you and my feelings for you are so intense it scares me_—but of course, he didn't. She must have seen that response in his eyes, though, because she moved across the rug and silently touched his face with her palms, tracing her fingers over the line of his brow and the sharp contour of his nose and then lovingly cupping his cheeks. Their eyes locked and they just knew: "I love you" hung in the air between them.

They leaned in at the same moment and their lips met in a series of delicate, fluttering kisses that slowly built in passion and intensity. The contact became an exploration of lips and teeth and tongues that left them breathless. Mulder broke the kiss and lightly trailed his lips and tongue down her neck to reverently kiss the bullet scar. She traced her fingers down his torso, her nails scratching slightly, causing him to shiver with sensation. Her hands reached the elastic of his boxers and she looked into his eyes for permission, and he nodded. They both stood as she removed his only barrier, and he rejoiced in sharing his body with his soul mate as her eyes traveled down the length of him. He wanted to see her then—to luxuriate in the feeling of her bare skin against his.

Scully let the towel fall to the floor with a whisper so that she stood in her cream-colored bra and red panties. Her eyes never left his as she moved her arm to her back to unhook the tiny clasp, and she easily shrugged the garment off. She hooked her thumbs around her panties, let them slide down her legs, and kicked them off when they reached her feet. She opened her arms to him to share the most intimate embrace With her arms around his neck, he lifted her off of the floor as their lips met once more and delicately set her down on the table. His breath was heavy and his mind was racing, hardly able to believe this was really happening and wanting nothing more.

"Are you sure?" he asked huskily.

"Make love to me Fox…" she whispered.

And he did.


	5. Chapter 5

**_Six weeks later_**

She loved watching him sleep. Scully tended to have bouts of insomnia, while Mulder could go out like a light anytime and anywhere in two minutes if he was tired enough. Often, she got up in the night to make some tea and putter around in an attempt to clean—especially when she was in Mulder's apartment. He always told her to wake him when she couldn't sleep, but she would much rather watch him dreaming. Scully propped her head up on the pillow with her arm and lightly traced a finger over his delicate features. His eyelids fluttered lightly; the touch probably entered his dream. Golden streams of streetlight poured in from the open window, creating patterns of light and shadow across his pillow and over his face. He looked incredibly young and innocent with his long eyelashes resting atop the apples of his cheeks and his full lips parted in the steady, rhythmic intake of breath. At that moment, Scully believed she was peeking back in time and seeing him as a little boy.

She kissed his forehead softly and gently climbed out of bed, trying not to disturb him. After quietly crossing the room, she stood nude at the open window, closing her eyes in peaceful relaxation as the warm summer breeze caressed her bare skin.

"You are so beautiful," he murmured.

She jumped from her reverie. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"I'm glad you did."

With an intense expression, he studied the shadows of her face.

"What?" she said

"You seem unusually enigmatic. What are you thinking?"

"I was thinking…that I'm happy. I haven't been truly happy in such a long time, and I don't think…I've never felt this way before. I guess I'm a little afraid, because my experience has taught me that happiness is fleeting. I don't want to lose this. Ever."

"Don't worry, Scully. I'm not going anywhere. Even if you want to get rid of me, I won't let you; you're stuck."

"Promise?"

"Cross my heart... C'mere."

He pulled the sheet back for her to climb into bed, and when she did, he curled up behind her, draped an arm over her waist, and lightly kissed the back of her neck.

"I'm sick of keeping this a secret—like it's something to hide. We should tell the Bureau, or at least let Skinner know," he said softly into her ear.

"I wish we could, but there's just too much at risk. Our partnership, the X Files—if we're taken off the X Files, they'll be shut down."

"I don't care."

"You will Mulder. It's your life's work—I won't let you abandon it."

He "Mm-hmmd" sleepily.

"What time is it?" he asked. He couldn't see the clock without his contact lenses.

Scully craned her neck to look over at the nightstand. "Five after four."

"Is it my turn to leave first today?"

"Nope it's mine. I have two and a half hours."

"Are you tired?"

" Not at all. I may as well get up now and make some coffee."

Mulder turned her to face him so that they held each other chest to chest, nudged her legs apart with his knee, and placed her right leg over his hip. Their lips met in a slow, sensual kiss.

"Stay. Let's make the most of our time before dawn." he whispered thickly.

Late May was the perfect time of year in Scully's opinion. The chilliness of rainy April receded, and hints of summer danced like electricity in the air; the weather was warm but not hot. A sweet breeze billowed lightly through her hair and gentle sunlight bathed her face as she strolled down E Street to the deli for the customary lunch order: chicken wrap for Mulder and a Greek salad for herself. Escaping the dark basement office for twenty minutes a day was always quite refreshing.

As she walked, Scully suddenly felt a chill travel the length of her spine, almost as if someone were following closely and she could feel their breath on the back of her neck. She quickly turned her head to examine the thin crowd of pedestrians behind her, but observed nothing out of the ordinary. Convinced Mulder's paranoia was just rubbing off on her, she shrugged and quietly laughed at her irrational unease. However, the odd sensation revisited on her return trip to the Hoover Building. She glanced over her shoulder several times, and as before, there was nothing to see.

After she again dismissed the bizarre instinct, a sudden pressure was placed in the center of her back, and a voice whispered calmly behind her,

"Keep walking straight. Don't say anything; act normal."

Panic rapidly increased her heart rate as she instantly realized that the barrel of a handgun was pressing into her spine. She turned her head slightly to catch a glimpse of the speaker.

"What the hell is it now, Krycek?"

"You're going to take a left into the Starbucks and sit at a table in the back. Then we'll talk. I'll put the gun away if I can trust you not to try anything. Can I trust you?"

"Yes," she said caustically through clenched teeth.

They swung a left nonchalantly into the coffee shop just like any other couple sharing lunch hour and casually weaved through the long line to sit at a table in the very back. Scully crossed her arms indignantly and glared at him with all the disgust she could muster.

"What's the conversation about? Speak," she said coldly.

"You could be a little more grateful Scully. I'm actually doing you a favor. This is a big risk for me—coming to you like this."

"If you're helping me, then why the gun?"

"I knew you wouldn't speak to me if I simply asked. A little force was needed to show you the urgency of the matter."

"OK—what?"

"You're in danger. You and Mulder. The man that shot you is going to find you again. Soon. And this time you won't be so lucky."

"What? That doesn't make any sense. The shooter left the country with members of a drug trafficking group. He only shot at me out of necessity to protect his inner circle, and now that he's escaped, there's no reason for him to come back for me."

"That whole case was a set up. I can't believe you and Mulder fell into the trap so perfectly; I always thought you were pretty clever. There was never a Russian mafia group selling drugs in New Orleans. The case was invented to lure the two of you out there alone."

"Why?"

"All I can say is that you are the target of two different parties. One aims to murder you and the other wants you alive and Mulder dead. Your shooter falls into the first category; his assignment is to kill you."

Scully's mouth fell open, speechless, not sure what to believe. "Who are these 'parties'? And why would they want to hurt us?"

"I told you already—that's all I have to say. My advice is leave D.C. by two weeks from today. It doesn't matter where you go—somewhere relatively far. Travel under another name and change your appearance as much as you can. And most importantly—Mulder can't know. Don't tell him anything; just go. He'll be safe here as long as you're not with him."

"I don't believe you. You've played us several times before. Why help us now?" she said shakily.

Krycek quickly scanned the room before standing.

"Because you can't do this alone."

"Is something wrong Scully?"

"No. Everything's fine, why?" She stabbed at the stuffed chicken breast with her fork and realized that she had rearranged everything on her plate.

"You're so quiet tonight. And you haven't eaten a bite of your dinner. Is my cooking really that bad?"

"No, it's good. I'm just not hungry."

"Your eyes were completely glazed over a second ago—like you were miles away. What's on your mind?"

"Nothing. I'm tired."

"Do you feel OK?"

"Yeah, I guess. I don't know, maybe I'm coming down with something."

"Did you have another headache today? Maybe you should see the doctor."

"No. I was kind of dizzy earlier, but it's just from fatigue."

"Is the insomnia getting worse?"

"Jesus Mulder! Stop with the fucking twenty questions. I'm fine," she snapped.

He gaped at her in sad surprise with wide hazel eyes like he'd just been slapped. Pangs of sharp guilt stabbed her chest; the last thing she wanted was to hurt him. She was incredibly frustrated at not being able to discuss the Krycek encounter and terrified at the possible danger they were in, as well as the prospect of leaving Mulder. The swirl of fears and conundrums were far too much to deal with in addition to the fact that, truthfully, she didn't feel well. Her ailments over the past few days included a nosebleed due to lightheadedness, which she would most definitely keep from him. _If I just get some sleep, everything will be better tomorrow. I'll figure out what to do._ Tears began to seep into her vision; and she quickly blinked and looked away, but not before Mulder noticed.

"Scully!" he cried in concern, quickly moving to kneel beside her chair. He took her chin in his hands in an attempt to force her to look at him, but she wouldn't make eye contact. "Whatever it is…please just tell me."

"I'm sorry. Nothing's wrong. I'm just very tired, and I want to go to sleep now," she sobbed.

Mulder sighed heavily. "OK. Tell me what to do. Can I get something for you?"

"No. I'm going to bed."

He trailed after her like a lost puppy as she meandered into his bedroom and collapsed on top of the comforter. He pulled her shoes and socks off, gently placed a light sheet over her, and kissed her forehead, surreptitiously checking for fever.

_The beach is beautiful. The sand is bright white, powdery silk and the water is a clear, brilliant aquamarine. Seagulls cry out in the cloudless sky, and the sound of the waves and warmth of the sun make her feel content and sleepy. She looks behind her and she sees Mulder standing in the surf, his eyes glued on the horizon. _Why isn't he following me? _Her eyes return to the direction in which she's walking, and she sees a tiny figure crouched in the sand. A brown-haired little boy sits with his back toward her, playing with a little shovel and pale. He glances back at her and smiles, but all she can remember of his face is the piercing blue eyes. She is intensely afraid for him, but she doesn't know why; she needs to protect him from an unseen evil. When she turns back to tell Mulder about him, she sees a man dressed all in black, holding a knife to Mulder's throat. _NO! HOLD ON MULDER! I'M COMING! I WON"T LET HIM HURT YOU! _As she races in his direction, she hears an earth-shattering crash behind her. A gigantic wave taller than the heavens quickly approaches the shore, and the boy, oblivious to danger, continues playing in the sand. She stands frozen, looking back and forth, knowing she can only save one of them. Mulder stares at her with empty eyes as the man in black drags the blade across his throat, spilling his blood. _NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! _She hopes she can still save the boy, so she runs back, but it's too late; the wave crashes onto the shore, swallowing him whole. The water hits her and quickly spills over her head, drowning her in nothingness._

Scully's eyes flew open, and her breath came in choking gasps. The room was spinning faster than she could think, and somehow she managed to fall out of bed and stumble into the bathroom as a wave of nausea overpowered her. When she crouched down on wobbly legs, she heard Mulder's hurried footsteps approaching.

"Scully, are you alright? Can I come in? Answer me."

"S'OK. Fine," she managed unconvincingly. The door flew open and Mulder rushed in to kneel beside her on the tile floor. He smoothed the sweaty, matted hair back from her face and delicately rubbed her neck and shoulders as the heaves shook her body. Afterwards, Scully sighed in relief at the cool washcloth that swiped across her face and neck, and she gratefully accepted the glass of water he offered, sipping tentatively.

"I'm taking you to the emergency room."

"No Mulder. Really, the hospital's not necessary. I probably just have a virus."

"Alright fine, but I'm driving you to the doctor first thing in the morning, and it's not up for debate."

"OK," she agreed shakily, lacking the strength to argue. He easily took her in his arms, gently lifted her from the floor, and carried her back to bed. She raised her arms compliantly as he removed her soiled clothes, replacing them with fresh pajamas. When he climbed into bed beside her, she curled up into a fetal position, and he wrapped his arms around her protectively.

Sleep didn't find her again that night; she frightfully willed it away. As she stared into the shadows, a firm realization came over her, as impossible as it seemed. _The boy is my son._


	6. Chapter 6

Fat raindrops splattered against the windshield so heavily that Mulder had to squint and lean forward to see the road clearly. He strummed his fingers on the wheel and simply kept his foot on the gas, not quite sure exactly where he was going. After dropping Scully off at her doctor's office, he had told her he had errands to run and would be back in an hour, which, of course, was a lie. Mulder needed an excuse to take her, because she had insisted on driving herself. _She had headaches with the cancer…no, she can't be out of remission. The nosebleeds would have come back. She probably just has insomnia—she'll be fine,_ he assured himself firmly, wanting more than anything to believe.

Clearly, she was keeping something from him. He prayed it wasn't her health, but whatever it was, he was greatly perturbed by the fact that she didn't trust him enough to be honest with him. Scully had been dishing out a rather large amount of "I'm fines" lately, which could only mean the worst. He turned the radio sports report to nearly full volume to drown out his disturbing thoughts. _She said she's happy with me…am I doing something wrong?_ She hadn't acted particularly strange until the night before when she suddenly lashed out at him, so he deduced that whatever it was happened sometime yesterday. As he made a left turn to loop back around to the medical center, he decided firmly: _I'll convince her to tell me today…and I'll help her with whatever's going on…even if she doesn't want me to._

When the test results came back, she wasn't shocked. She should have been, but she wasn't. In fact, she already knew the answer; she'd known since last night when the dream came. Everything suddenly made more sense. _They want him, _she realized with a grim certainty. Impossibility often transcended reality in her daily life, and she had learned that miracles do exist, especially since she'd been working with Mulder. Therefore, the question of how it could have happened was a step behind the "what do I do now?" in her mind. Before she walked out into the waiting area to find Mulder, she stepped into a single bathroom and locked the door behind her. Bittersweet tears spilled over her cheeks, and as she rubbed them away with a paper towel, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Something was different about the face peering back from the other side of the glass; or perhaps she just felt different—changed. A new importance and grave responsibility had been placed on her; another person's life now depended on the choices she made. _I have to leave. To save them both. _The bleak knowledge caused a fresh bout of tears to fill her eyes, and she roughly swiped at them in frustration. _I need to be strong now. Even if it means abandoning the happiness I've found. _Scully took several deep breaths, and after finally managing to compose herself, she left in search of Mulder.

"So what did she say?" Mulder asked nervously, unconsciously shifting his weight between his feet. He had been waiting for her to initiate conversation since she'd met him in the waiting room, but silence hung between them all the way down the hall to the elevator.

"She prescribed migraine medication and gave me some suggestions to help with the insomnia. I'm not sick—everything's fine."

Mulder noticed immediately that she was avoiding eye contact. When Scully was concealing even part of the truth, he could always tell. The urge to scream and beg her to reveal the mysterious "it" weighed heavily upon him, but he decided to restrain himself.

"You're sure that's all."

"Yep. That's it."

"Scully, I…I don't believe you."

"I don't know what to tell you Mulder. There's nothing else."

He hung his head in defeat. So much for convincing her to open up.

_I could head south—the Carolinas are too close. Georgia? Florida? Or maybe I should go west. _She placed her forehead in her hands and rubbed her temples anxiously. _Mulder will find me. Where can I go that he won't find me?_ _And what am I supposed to do? What about a place to live…and a job? _More than anything, Scully longed to just tell him everything. Maybe he could help her find a safe place…but he couldn't know—that's what Krycek had said. Perhaps simply knowing her location would put him in danger. Then again, Krycek wasn't necessarily to be trusted, and Mulder would certainly agree. Trust no one, right? That was their motto—not to rely on anyone except each other. _I should tell him, _she decided confidently. But she shook her head, continuing her internal argument. _If I tell him everything, he'll never let me go alone; and if Krycek is right, then we—the three of us—will only be safe if we're apart._

"Scully? Hello? Houston to Captain Scully…"

Mulder's voice pervaded her inner dialogue, and she looked up to see that he had returned to the office from the meeting with Skinner.

"Are you OK? That was really weird—I could have sworn you were sleeping soundly with your eyes open. Did you hear anything I said?"

"What? No, I uh, I'm sorry Mulder. I was just…thinking. I'm—"

"I know—fine. What were you thinking about? It must have been pretty intense."

"Nothing. I don't really remember…So what were you saying? How did the meeting go?"

"Oh you know. Same old thing—we need to be more careful about sticking to the budget, try to be more productive, show more case selectivity… blah, blah. Be happy he only needed one of us to go—it's your lucky day."

"Yeah, I don't feel like another lecture on how I need to do a better job babysitting you." She tried to force a smile but only managed a weak, lop-sided grin.

He studied her face intently, probably waiting patiently for her to discuss whatever was obviously bothering her. She drew a deep nervous breath, deciding quickly that she could no longer bottle up this secret, despite the possible danger.

"Mulder…we need to talk."

"Um, sure," he said hesitantly as he pulled up the chair to sit across from her. "Tell me…what's upsetting you?"

"Well, there are a couple things…Uh, alright, this is…I'll just say it…I—um…I'm—"

Her lips formed around the "P" word, but she couldn't force it out of her mouth. "I'm sorry that I snapped at you a few nights ago. I wasn't feeling well, and I took it out on you. You didn't deserve that—I've been feeling really badly about it," she rambled hurriedly.

"That's what you needed to tell me? Scully, you know that's already forgotten. There's nothing to be sorry for. Don't feel bad—I'm just happy that the doctor said everything's OK…_Is_ everything OK?"

"Yes."

"Well, what was the other thing you had to tell me?"

"What?"

"You said there are a couple of things bothering you. So what else is going on?"

"Oh—nothing. I don't know why I said that."

Mulder leaned against his black Acura as he stared hypnotically at the rapidly increasing numbers above the gas pump. Dinner sat in the backseat, and the enticing aroma of Peking's take-out orange chicken order wafted into his nostrils from the open window. Neither he nor Scully had been in the mood for playing chef tonight. His plan was to try and talk to her once again over dinner and a couch movie; he'd already conceded painfully to _Steel Magnolias_. Perhaps if their discussion felt more informal to her, she would just relax and let go of whatever it was that had been making her so tense. Mulder was still worried about her health, despite her insistence that she was feeling better. He had become an expert Scully reader over the years; so just because she was acting the part of "fine" didn't mean he was fooled.

When Mulder turned to replace the nozzle at the pump and close his tank, he remembered that he had promised to buy a gallon of milk today for Scully's Raisin Bran. Praying that the tiny 7-11 beside the gas station would have some sort of organic milk that would save a trip to the store, he grabbed his wallet from the front seat and walked inside. He browsed the refrigerated area in the back, and after much scrutiny, finally decided on a "naturally" fat free milk and soy combo; it sounded Scullyish. With imminent purchase in hand, he turned in the direction of the cash register just as the front door slammed open with a crash. Two large men dressed all in black with ski masks covering their faces entered, guns drawn. One instantly approached the cash register and instructed the frightened teenage cashier to place all bills in a plastic bag, while the other appraised the occupants of the store.

"Alright mother-fuckers, you know what this is. Down on the floor—face down. Everyone!" he screamed. "Do what you're told and this doesn't have to get ugly."

Other than Mulder and the cashier, there were two people in the store: a middle-aged man shaking with sobs as he lay sprawled on the floor and a college-age girl huddled in a corner looking like a deer caught in headlights. Mulder slowly nodded at the robbers, placed his hands up in a gesture of surrender, and slowly lowered himself to the floor. The second man, the more vocal one, strode to the corner and pulled the girl off the floor by her collar. He dragged her to the front of the store and thrust his gun into her temple while she screamed.

He looked directly at Mulder when he spoke. "If anybody thinks of trying something, she's dead. Ya'll got that?"

"Please, just take whatever you want from any of us and go. You won't be followed—no one has to get hurt," Mulder said.

"Really?" the man replied coolly, tightening his grip on the girl. "But it's more fun that way. Don't you think? Listening to her squeal, then watching blood and brains splatter as she squirms to her death. That's better than a movie—definitely more interesting than _Steel Magnolias_ shit."

"What?" Mulder choked, sucking in his breath.

"Thanks for the entertainment, honey. You're cute and all, but I think I'm gonna play with that one back there," the man said to the girl as he jerked her away and threw her to the floor. Mulder, head spinning and unsure of his next move, grasped for his 9mm tucked in the back of his pants. The larger man reached him quickly and pressed an odd-looking weapon against his neck before Mulder had the chance to fight back.

"Sweet dreams," the man whispered icily as he released the projectile into Mulder's skin. Everything in Mulder's vision instantly blurred into an indistinguishable swirl of colors. He would remember tumbling backwards and staring at the stained tile ceiling before his world morphed into liquid blackness.

He wasn't answering his cell phone. He always answered when she called. _Maybe it's not on,_ she hoped. Scully paced nervously around Mulder's living room, checked her watch every two minutes, and called him again every five. He had said he was only going to pick up Chinese take-out and would be back in twenty minutes. That was nearly an hour and a half ago and Scully's mind raced with possibilities. She had already picked up the phone twice to call Skinner and alert the Bureau, but both times she had slammed it back into its cradle, assuring herself that he was fine and would be back soon. _Maybe he has a flat tire…no, he would have called…maybe his phone is out of charge, or he doesn't have service…no, he would have service anywhere in Arlington…This can't be what Krycek warned about…it hasn't even been a week…I'll go look for him—OK, that's what I'll do. _She grabbed her shoes and keys from the couch and hurried to the front door. As she swung the door open in her haste, she yelped in surprise to find Alex Krycek standing in the hallway.


	7. Chapter 7

"What are you doing here? Where is Mulder?" she shrieked.

"They have him Scully. They want you to come after him so they can take you and then kill you after your baby is born." Krycek said.

"How do you know about my baby?" she asked incredulously.

"Because I know what they know. Please, there's no time for this."

"Tell me where he is. I have to find him—I have no choice."

"Scully, they'll kill him anyway. Go now—tonight—far away from Washington. It's your last hope…your child's last hope."

"I am not leaving him!"

"If you run—I will do my best to get Mulder out of there, OK?"

"No! I don't trust you!"

"Fine, it's your choice—if you must go, if you're willing to take the risk…I'll show you where he is."

"Then show me—let's go," she said firmly.

_My legs aren't working. _He knew he was awake and experiencing reality instead of a dream, because all of his senses were on high alert. A cold surface, probably metal, was beneath him; and the frigidity sent chills shooting up his spine, since his back was bare. Something was restraining his limbs; when he'd first awakened, he'd panicked, because he had thought he was paraplegic. But he could now feel some sort of heavy strapping material confining him. _I want to open my eyes. Why can't I open my eyes?_ Panic constricted his breathing once more as he realized that his eyes were indeed open, yet seeing nothing. Either his environment was darker than pitch, or he was blind. "HELLO?...WHERE AM I?" he screamed, shocked that he could still produce sound. His voice echoed in the stale, chilly air, revealing that he was in a large space.

"Do calm down, Mr. Mulder. There's no reason to get hysterical. You'll be able to see again in a few hours," a strangely familiar British accent said evenly.

"Who are you?...WHO ARE YOU?"

"We knew each other some time ago. You don't recognize my voice at all?"

"No, you can't be…I watched you die two years ago."

"Oh, Mr. Mulder, how can you really be sure of exactly what you saw? You turned and ran if I remember correctly; there was no body to be found. I showed you exactly what I wanted you to believe."

"But you gave me Scully's location in Antarctica—they killed you because you betrayed them."

"No, 'They' didn't kill me; I've been very much alive for the past two years, I assure you. I staged that little explosion myself."

"But—why?"

"Very well, I suppose you're entitled to a few answers. In short, I was unsatisfied with my colleagues' decisions and plans. I tried to convince them that the project was headed in the wrong direction, but they refused to listen to my suggestions—my answers. So I took the future into my own hands; I chose to help you and Agent Scully, and since I've been 'dead', I have worked on my own agenda—as I should have done long ago. My work has been successful and will soon be complete."

Footsteps echoed nearby, a rusty metal door creaked, and someone approached. "He is awake already? Would you like us to give him a stronger one, sir?"

Mulder recognized the voice of the 'robber' who had injected him with a tranquilizer in the 7-11, though he now had a distinct British accent.

"No, Aaron. You may go. I wish to continue speaking with him alone."

"Yes sir." Footsteps faded away and the door creaked shut.

"Anyway, where were we…oh yes, my new project. You and Agent Scully are very important to my work."

"What are you talking about? Where is Scully? What have you done with her?"

"I have done nothing Mr. Mulder. I hope you'll forgive me, but you've already served your purpose and are no longer of use to me. I'm indulging you in answering questions, but right now, you are merely playing the part of the 'cheese' to Agent Scully's 'mouse'. She'll come looking for you, no doubt, and when she does, it will be time for the next step."

"What do Scully and I have to do with this? Please, if you need someone, take me. Leave her alone."

"For decades, a war has raged between two alien races for possession of this planet: the shape-shifting Greys and what we call the 'fire' race, because of their weapons and burnt faces—"

"I ALREADY KNOW THIS!"

"Now, now, don't be rude. I wasn't finished—I'll get to your answers in a moment. Anyway, the best hope for human survival was to side with the stronger race—the Greys. To begin colonization, humans and aliens must combine to form a single race through genetic hybridization, which my colleagues attempted and failed. The first hybrid cannot be just any person on the planet; it must be a very special and specific individual in order to achieve success.

Before you interrupt again—I am now getting to the part where you and Scully come in. I saved your lives, because I recognized your ability to, together, genetically create a perfect candidate for hybridization. Your irregular brain activity, which you discovered almost a year ago, gives you an inherent sixth sense—even if you don't know how to use it. And it makes you a step closer to Them than an ordinary human. Also, Scully miraculously was the only survivor of the female abductees of Allentown. She defeated the brain tumor and proved the most successful of all the experiments conducted. Combine her genetic potential with yours, and the product would be a child with new strengths and a lack of certain human frailties."

"But…but…We can't even—Scully is unable to conceive. Because of what they did to her—what they took," he stammered

"Ah yes—the ova. They weren't all taken; but we needed her to believe she was barren, so that she wouldn't consider conception a concern when she was with you."

"How the hell do you know…about us?"

"We've been watching you closely, Mr. Mulder—following you. Lake Ninevah really is lovely this time of year, isn't it?"

"You sick fuck!"

"Yes, well… After finally receiving a report from our man who works with her doctor, we're now able to move on with the plan."

"No…you—you're not saying that Scully is…that she's…"

"I'm surprised she didn't tell you."

Mulder drew a shaky breath and felt his sightless eyes sting with tears. _Please run, Scully. Just run. Save yourself …and our baby._

The journey south in the car was silent and seemed painfully long. Scully stared out the passenger window blankly, her elbow propped on the ledge under the glass and her forehead resting on her fist. The world became darker as they traveled further and further away from city lights; the only illumination in the countryside emanated from the headlights and the stars twinkling overhead. Open fields stretched on forever framed with blue shadows of mountains on the horizon; and the landscape was occasionally blotted with farmhouses and silos.

"These back roads are taking forever! We're running out of time!" her unsteady, shrill voice fractured the quiet.

Krycek kept his gaze frozen on the two-lane road as he drove.

"It's very close now," he said evenly.

They were somewhere in North Carolina from what Scully was able to gage, and it had taken them over two hours to get this far. Suddenly, Krycek pulled over onto the dirt shoulder next to a wooden fence enclosing a pasture land.

"Where is it?" she asked, frantically looking around at the nothingness that surrounded them.

"You're going to take a right onto that gravel drive up ahead. It leads to an abandoned soap factory. That's where you're going. I'm leaving—you're on your own for now. Here—"

He reached behind his seat, grabbed a flashlight, and handed it to her."—You'll need this."

"A factory…How am I supposed to get in?"

"The main entrances are in the front and back—I'd recommend the smaller ones at the sides. Be careful of the windows. You're probably going to be up against, at most, four others."

Scully nodded, trying to mask her apprehension. She opened the door and looked back at Krycek, unsure if she should thank him or kill him. They locked eyes for a moment before she silently turned, closed the door behind her, and watched the taillights of his rented sedan disappear into the night.

She crept forward as silently as possible in the tall grass beside the gravel path. Her hand was carefully placed over the beam of the flashlight to soften its brightness as she pointed it at the uneven ground beneath her. The only sounds were the chirping of crickets, the occasional hoot of an owl, and her own ragged, frightened breath, which she tried desperately to quiet. The path stretched on into a wooded area of dense trees and underbrush, and every time an animal snapped a twig in the distance, Scully was convinced that the enemy (whoever that may be) had found her.

At last she arrived in a clearing and discovered her destination: a large, dilapidated factory with tall, mill-style windows on each side. An old pick-up truck was parked next to the front entrance of rusty double doors. She turned off the flashlight and remained in the shadows of the trees as she skulked along to face the side entrance of the building, which was merely a small door partially cut into one of the giant windows. After waiting a few moments to check for any signs of life around the ancient factory, she noiselessly scurried into the clearing and crouched below a window, her back against corroded wood. Scully first checked for cameras, and finding none, straightened her knees gradually and turned to peer through the bottom of the window.

A faint violet glow emanated from the darkened room, but there appeared to be no one inside. Slowly and hesitantly, she pulled the heavy door open and jumped as it squeaked slightly on rusty hinges. She stepped into the inky shadows and other-worldly glow of the strange chamber, and dropping to a crouch position, she moved along the walls to explore the room. Several medical tables stood in rows in the center of the space, and the source of the violet glow was a strange lighted sphere that hung from the high, vaulted ceiling. Scully speculated that the light was some sort of warming device, since there was heat radiating from the center of the room. Along the far side by a door were a series of high, metal cabinets that seemed to be interconnected. Out of curiosity, she opened one of the doors to reveal several jars containing multi-colored substances. Taped onto each jar was a label that simply read _DNA_ followed by a four-digit number. Scully glanced up to another shelf and discovered a large collection of needles of various sizes, causing her to shiver.

Her breath caught in her throat when she heard footsteps moving down a corridor in her direction. Two distinct voices became audible as their owners approached the room. Scully searched frantically for a decent hiding place and quickly decided on the cabinets. She crawled into the large lower shelf, moving the jars aside, and hurriedly pulled the door closed behind her. She tried to freeze her breath as the door to the room screeched open. A beam of a flashlight became visible from the other side of the cabinets.

"What the hell do you mean you heard something in here?" a man with a British accent said.

"Look Aaron, I was just walking by in the hall on my watch like I'm supposed to, and there were footsteps."

"You're not buying that this old place is haunted, are you?"

"No…I dunno. I know what I heard, OK? Just wanted to make sure there wasn't an intruder…spiritual or otherwise."

Aaron sighed in annoyance. "Alright, you start on that side and I'll look in the back."

Suddenly, Scully heard a scream that echoed from far away—somewhere below. She recognized it immediately; it was Mulder. The terror she felt caused her to involuntarily suck in her breath and jump slightly. Her knee hit a glass jar beside her, causing it to scoot against the metal door and create a fairly loud scrape. _Oh shit. God help me. Get us out of this._

"What was that? Did you hear that?" the other man asked excitedly.

"I heard it. That wall—by the door. Open those cabinets."


	8. Chapter 8

Her heart thudded rapidly and so loudly she was sure that the sound alone would give her away. In the few seconds it took the men to cross the room, Scully's mind raced with her limited options. She quickly decided against facing them and pulling her gun, because her chances of getting away in that scenario were slim. Her instincts told her to simply flee further into the shadows, though to what end she had no idea. The labyrinth of metal cabinets couldn't go on forever, and hiding was no means of escape. Nevertheless, she hastily crouched over the jars and crawled past the end of the shelving unit into the next storage space, where she silently pushed aside more lab equipment. The flashlight beam flooded the area she had just escaped from, and she could see the shadow of a head turning about frantically.

"I don't see anything, Aaron. Maybe it was just another rat."

"No it was bigger than a rat; I'm damn sure of it. I'll open the other end."

With no where else to run, Scully made her body as small as possible by curling into a ball with her head over her knees and hid behind a stack of steel specimen trays. Harsh light filtered in from the opposite end of her shelter, and she was sure that she was in plain sight.

"Nothing on this side either. Let's go ahead and open the middle—to be sure."

_Don't see me. Please don't see me._ The shelf surface beneath her jostled as the door directly in front of her was forced open.

"Nah—still nothing. You're making me paranoid, Travis. I'm going back down to see if he needs anything. You just get back to your watch outside, and don't call me up again for rats…or ghosts."

The cabinet door slammed shut, the beams of light were extinguished, and the door to the room creaked closed. Scully breathed out an enormous sigh of relief and wondered if, perhaps, there was a God. She waited until she could no longer hear footsteps echoing in the corridor, and then kicked the metal door open and slipped out. After pushing the heavy door open a crack and peering into the empty passageway, she gently squeezed out of the room. The walls of the long corridor were made of wood and old earth; and flickering, old halogen lights hung in a rusted row along the ceiling. Scully crept against the wall to remain in the protective arm of the shadows.

Eventually, she came to a decaying wooden door at the end of the walkway and softly pushed it open to peek inside. Surprisingly, instead of another room on the other side of the door, there was a dark, narrow, winding staircase; Aaron _had_ mentioned going 'down' somewhere. Too afraid to risk clicking on her flashlight, Scully let the door swing shut behind her and painstakingly navigated her way in the dark. Both the stairs and the walls were made of earth and stone; and Scully felt loose dirt cake under her fingernails as she slid her hands along the walls for support. When she finally found the bottom, the darkness receded gradually, and a light source slowly became visible from around the corner. As she tentatively stepped forward, someone burst out of the shadows behind her, and a dirty, sweaty palm pressed against her lips to muffle her scream. The jagged edge of a rusted blade pressed into the throbbing pulse in her neck. Aaron whispered harshly into her ear.

"I got ya. Game's over sweetie—don't struggle." He removed the blade from her neck, scraped it lightly down her torso without cutting flesh, and rested it firmly against her lower abdomen.

"I know what you've got here. How does it feel to help create a new species?" he said icily.

In one fast move, Scully kicked forcefully backwards and up, striking the heel of her boot into his crotch. He sucked in his breath on a word that sounded like "bitch", doubled over, and attempted to grab her ankles to bring her down. Scully dodged out of his reach, smashed her foot down onto his fingers so that he lost his grip on the knife, and quickly grabbed the blade before he could react. In a swift and fatal motion, she skillfully stabbed the knife into his neck, severing his carotid artery.

She turned and left Aaron wheezing and sputtering in a growing pool of blood and removed the 9mm from the back of her jeans. The gun drawn with both hands, she noiselessly stepped forward and around the corner. After crossing another corridor similar to the one upstairs, she arrived beside the entrance to the central factory area. The entry passage gradually dipped upward into a massive warehouse-size space with a high ceiling. Remnants of ancient, rusted, factory equipment were scattered about the room; and someone was standing on the opposite side of the space with their back to the entrance, speaking. Scully crouched over and silently moved between large pieces of equipment, inching closer to her target. As shetraveled the length ofthe room, she was able to distinguish the man's words and was shocked when she recognized his voice.

"She'll be here soon, Mr. Mulder, so I'm afraid it's time for me to be rid of you. What do you think: knife or gun? Hmmm…the knife adds a more poetic touch, don't you think?"

Scully heard Mulder moan in a weak attempt to cry out as the Well-Manicured Man raised a knife above his head. Time slowed to a trance-like state as she saw the blade shimmering in the moonlight that was streaming in from a row of windows just below the ceiling. In a fraction of a second, Scully raised her gun, hoping she was close enough, aimed, and fired one shot to the back of the man's head. He collapsed over on the metal table in front of him onto Mulder's legs. She tucked the gun back into her jeans and raced to the table to discover Mulder with his eyes squeezed shut, his arms and legs bound with leather strapping, and his bare chest covered in large cuts and swollen bruises, clearly resulting from a harsh beating. Scully shoved the man's lifeless body aside as she hurriedly began unfastening Mulder's restraints. His eyes were still shut in pain and fear, and he shrank away from her touch.

"Mulder, it's me. We're going to get out of here. I promise. But I need you to help me." At that moment, she felt like bursting into tears of relief, screaming out how much she loved this man, gathering him into her arms, and kissing away his pain. _There's_ _time for that later. We have to move._

His hazel eyes slowly blinked open, bleary and out of focus as he gazed at her face. "Scully?" he said shakily.

"Yes Mulder. I'm here. Come on. You need to get up."

"I can barely see you."

She helped him sit up, and then supported his weight as he stepped off the table onto wobbly legs. Scully draped one of his arms around her shoulders, snaked her arm around his back, and dragged him forward.

"Mulder, there are others that would have heard that shot. We have to get out of here. Keep moving—you can do it.

"No, Scully…you go …I can't move fast enough…leave me."

"I am not leaving without you. You're my life, Mulder. Come on!"

Scully searched frantically for an outside exit from the large room. Her eyes scanned the walls and came to rest on the row of windows under the ceiling. A ladder next to each wall lead up to a platform that stretched across the high backside of the factory, and she steered them in that direction.

"We have to get up this ladder. Climb. I'm right behind you," she said.

She steadied Mulder's backside as he pulled his trembling legs up each rung of the ladder. Twice he almost tumbled backwards on top of her, but she was able to throw her weight forward each time to help push him back up. When at last they reached the top platform, Scully searched hurriedly for an object with which to break the window. While Mulder lay slumped in the corner, she pulled forcefully on the old piping system on the ceiling until she was able to remove a large metal shard.

"Mulder, move back!" she cried as she smashed the piece of piping into the glass, shattering it instantly.

She pulled Mulder upright by his underarms and directed him to climb out of the small space onto the grass outside. When his body was half way out, she heard screaming coming from below.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? Stop right there!" Scully recognized Travis' voice.

Several shots were fired in her general direction, probably intended simply to frighten her, and she heard footsteps climbing the ladder. As another clip was fired, the kick from the last shot must have thrown the man back, because Scully heard him yell as he flew through the air and hit the ground with a thud.

"Scully?" Mulder cried from outside the window.

"I'm not hit. I'm coming!"

She quickly snaked her body out of the window, dragging her forearms over broken glass in the process. Once they were both outside, Scully hastily stood and resumed the position of supporting Mulder's weight as they ran together in the direction of the thick forest. They stumbled over rocks, roots, and brambles as they plunged further into the cover of darkness. After they had fled for what seemed like forever and were both out of breath, they collapsed against a tree trunk clinging to one another.

"We can stop for a minute, but we have to keep going soon, Mulder," she panted. "Can you see any better?"

"A little. I can see shapes and colors; everything's just blurry."

"OK…I don't know what they gave you, but it appears to be wearing off. In an hour or so, you'll probably regain feeling in your limbs."

"Are you hurt, Scully?"

"No. I'm OK. My arms are cut, but I'm fine."

"Do you think the…the baby's OK?

"…Yeah. I'm not hurt, Mulder."

As he opened his mouth to speak again, a bright orange glow flooded the silhouettes of the trees in front of them; and they stumbled to their feet in preparation to flee in another direction. Before they could cover any ground, a man seemed to appear out of nowhere directly in front of them. Light swirled around him, and the reflection of flames flooded his cold black eyes. Fear tightened in Scully's throat as she began to realize there was no escape. Mulder moved in front of her, covering her body with his. She quickly drew her gun, reached around Mulder, and shot at the menacing figure; but he did not react to the bullets.

"We finally come face to face Ms. Scully," he said in a gravely voice with a thick Russian accent.

"Krycek did well in leading me to you. My race has long worked to help prevent the Men from succeeding with their experiments. This is the closest They've come to beginning colonization. Now it's over—we will prevail. You must die. I'm quite embarrassed I missed the first time."

As Ivan calmly raised his steel, cylindrical weapon in preparation to release the deadly flames, another figure burst out from behind the trees and grabbed him around the neck. Ivan dropped his weapon as he struggled; and Alex Krycek reached around to swiftly rip the face off his former partner and shove a narrow, silver blade into the back of his neck. Green acid simmered out of the convulsing body as it collapsed to the earth, the orange glow melting away.

Mulder and Scully were frozen staring at the body, and as they turned to look at Krycek, Scully quickly pulled her gun on him. Krycek raised his arms, palms up, in a gesture of surrender.

"I used to work with that man, and several years ago, he was murdered by one of Them. I did not lead that thing here—he knew where to find you. Just like I warned you, Scully."

He slowly reached into his pocket and retrieved a key ring, which he tossed at Mulder and Scully.

"Keep heading straight this way and you'll soon reach the highway. The car is parked off the shoulder. It has a full tank of gas. Just go." He removed his outer shirt and handed it to Mulder, who took the offering hesitantly.

Mulder and Scully continued to lean on one another as they stumbled past Krycek. They turned back, glancing at him unsurely, and he nodded for them to continue. After that night, they never saw him again.

Scully and Mulder drove in silence in the early light of morning to a bus station, where they ditched the car. While Scully cleaned up in the bathroom, Mulder called Frohike to ask if they could crash at the Gunmens' while they healed, rested, and decided what to do next. Frohike jabbered nonstop begging for all the details, and Mulder promised to fill him in when they arrived. After he hung up the pay phone, he sunk into a chair in the lobby and nearly collapsed in exhaustion. His sight had finally returned completely, and his arms and legs were at last in proper working order; but his body still ached unbearably. All he wanted to do was curl up and sleep with Scully safe in his arms and worry about everything else later. Mulder had about a million questions for her, but he knew they wouldn't have a chance to speak until they were out of imminent danger. He had been reluctant to let her out of his sight in case they'd been followed; and he nervously looked about to check for any conspicuous figures. Scully emerged from the ladies room with wet paper towels pressed against her forearms and silently took a seat beside him.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

"It just stings a little. I should be asking you that, Mulder. You took a much worse beating. When we get to the Gunmens', I want to take a look. Did you ask them to have medical supplies ready?

"Yes…other than the cuts…do you feel OK? I mean, you've been running around all night…It can't be good for the…"

"I'm OK, Mulder—we're both fine. I promise. It's time to catch the bus now, but we'll talk about everything later—when we're alone. OK?"

"OK," Mulder agreed as she helped him to his feet.

"Whoa Scully. You're a total badass!" Langly cried excitedly after she and Mulder finished the abbreviated version of their adventures.

"Geez Mulder. She really makes you look like a pansy. You're lucky to have her watching your back." Frohike added playfully.

"She—OW!" Mulder cried as Scully stitched a deep laceration on his chest.

"Hold still, Mulder, or it's going to hurt worse," she said, adjusting the lamp beside her to improve her vision. "Byers, stop hovering over me; you're blocking out the light. I'll let you know when I need you to pass me something else. Thanks."

"You like playing rough Scully. I'm beginning to see you as a dominatrix. With leather. Lots of leather," Mulder dead-panned.

"Shut up," she whispered, smiling, and leaned in to press her lips against his. "Or I'll have to punish you," she added softly, but loud enough so the three stooges could hear.

"I knew it! How long have you two been doing the wild thing? Three years? Seven years?" Frohike quipped. Byers turned a deep shade of red and looked away shyly.

"None of your damn business," Mulder replied with a smile.

"Anyway, back on a serious note…Scully and I have to get out of Washington as soon as possible. They may still be after us, so we need to leave quick and cover our tracks. If you guys could get a message to Skinner and let him know that we're alright—that'd be great… And we're going to need a car, papers, fake ID's…can you do that?" Mulder asked.

"You've come to the right place. Our king-fu is the best," Langly said.

"Thank you," Scully murmured as she finished playing doctor on Mulder.

"You two look exhausted. We'll let you sleep while we get to work. Make yourselves at home. Those couches are more comfortable than they look," Byers said

The Gunmen turned and left, pulling the door closed behind them, leaving the partners alone in the room. Mulder pulled his fresh shirt down, sprawled onto the couch, and opened his arms for Scully to join him. She gently settled herself into the crook of his arm, careful not to disturb his injuries. Mulder delicately pressed a kiss onto her forehead.

"Are you too tired for conversation?" he whispered into her ear.

"No. I don't think I can quiet my brain enough to sleep now anyway…I can't stop thinking about Krycek. Was he on our side all along?"

"Maybe not all along…But from what you said about how he came to you—I think he was sincere in helping us."

"But why?"

"Maybe he wanted to work against the remnants of the Syndicate and the Renegades…or maybe he just wanted to help us…I guess we'll never really know…Scully, how could you not tell me that you're pregnant?"

"I was afraid. Krycek said you'd be in danger if you knew; and I believed him, so I kept it from you. I wanted to protect you."

"I can't stand that you had to endure this alone. We're in this together—it's _our_ baby… We tell each other everything, right? Especially something like this! I would have helped you—we could have left Washington together."

"I'm sorry, I just…I wasn't willing to risk your life."

"But you risked yours—and the baby's—by coming after me."

"No. I saved our family by coming after you."

Mulder sucked in his breath and could think of no come back for that one. _Our family._ He tightened his arms around her and drifted one arm down to press his palm against her flat stomach. She placed both of her hands on top of his.

"Marry me, Scully?"

"Sure, Mulder. I thought you'd never ask."

"I love you," he whispered contentedly.

"Love you," she replied as she began to drift to sleep against his chest. He lightly brushed tangled auburn hair out of her closed eyes and watched her begin to dream. Patterns of sunlight streamed from the window and danced over her peaceful face.

_**Two months later**_

Scully turned the simple white gold band around her finger and gazed over at Mulder as he drove with one hand—his other gently held hers and was resting on the slight bulge of her belly. They had bought the matching rings just outside St. Louis, and inside each band was inscribed simply "_My Truth_". They'd been married in a simple ceremony on an Apache reservation in Oklahoma, where no one asked any questions.

Mulder's brows were knitted as he stared intently at the winding road and fields of wheat breezing by the windows of the Ford Taurus. Mountains of various shades of deep orange rust rested on the horizon, and Mulder pressed forward, as if he were trying to meet them.

"You look enigmatic. What are you thinking?" she asked.

"I'm thinking…I feel like a traitor, Scully—just running. That man's work will continue by another's hand—the DNA samples you found remain. It will be someone else's child that begins colonization…Was it all worth it? The X Files? With the high personal cost—especially to you—what did we really accomplish? What kind of a world is our son going to grow up in? What do we do—just pretend we don't know what's happening to the human race?

"Personal cost to me? When I look back at the X Files and the last near decade of my life, I realize that maybe I didn't find all of the answers I was looking for or the proof that I wanted…But what I did find is so much more than that; and it makes everything else worth it. I found courage and trust and…love—which I had ceased to believe in. And I found something that I'd lost: faith. Everything happens for a reason. Because I chose to leave medicine, I now have a husband and a son. That is the sum of my life Mulder. That's what we've accomplished. You wonder what we're supposed to do now? That's easy—we live. We raise our son, and we don't worry about the things we can't change."

After a heavy silence, Mulder gazed at her and smiled. "You're right," he murmured. "Maybe there's hope."

"_We danced in graveyards with vampires till dawn. We laughed in the faces of kings, never afraid to burn. Give me life, Give me pain, Give me myself again." Tori Amos 'Little Earthquakes'_

_**To be continued in the epilogue**_


	9. Epilogue

Annie reaches behind her back awkwardly and struggles to tie the strings of her obnoxious yellow apron. After she clips her name badge under her ruffled collar, she pulls her long chestnut hair into a ponytail. She crinkles her eyebrows and sticks out her tongue at her reflection in the dirty bathroom mirror. This job is far too unglamorous. Her dreams live in California, and in order to have the means to meet them there, she waits tables at the local Waffle House in Kendrick's Hope, Nevada. She smiles despite herself; it feels good to be nineteen—grown up, with an entire life of exciting twists and turns sweeping out ahead of her. She checks her watch and sighs when she realizes that her shift begins in just two minutes, and she reluctantly turns from the mirror, abandons her quiet reverie, and pushes the swinging door. After clocking in at the register, her best friend, Deb, who is carrying a large pot of coffee, nearly rushes right into her.

"Sorry Annie. Did you just get in?"

"Yep, unfortunately."

"Mr. Allen wanted me to tell you that you've got the row to the left by the windows today, cause Jeff can't come in till later. I've got the people over there now, but you get the new ones as they start comin in."

"K. Thanks Deb."

The bell on the door jingles as a tall, slender, dark-haired man enters carrying an adorable toddler on his hip. The man tickles the little boy's middle, and he giggles sweetly. A blonde woman steps through the door behind them holding a well-loved, one-eyed teddy bear and toting a blue diaper bag over one shoulder. Annie approaches them, flashing her friendly waitress grin and ushers them to a table.

"Good morning. My name's Annie and I'll be right with you. Do you need a high chair?"

"Yes please. Thank you Annie," the man replies, offering her a crooked smile.

The little boy turns his head away from his father's chest and glances at Annie curiously with inquisitive blue eyes and one eyebrow raised, almost as if he is deciding whether to trust her. He must believe her to be a friend, because he grins widely, proudly displaying a set of new teeth, and points at the bear his mother is holding.

"Teddy! Momma got Teddy!" he cries, introducing his best friend.

"I see your Teddy," she says, smiling. "Your little boy is beautiful. So adorable—those bright blue eyes and curly brown hair…How old is he?"

"18 months," the blonde woman answers softly, already seated at the booth. Annie examines her face for a moment and decides there is something strange about her features. Her milky skin is dotted with freckles and her brows don't quite match her hair color. _She looks like a natural red head,_ Annie decides.

"What's his name?"

"William—Will," the man answers as he takes his seat at the booth, bouncing the squirming toddler playfully on his lap.

"Hello Will," Annie says, shaking his tiny fist. "The menus are against the wall. I'll be right back with that high chair and to take your drink orders."

As she makes her rounds to the other tables, she finds herself watching the couple out of the corner of her eye. The way they look at one another—there is a world of love and expression hidden in their eyes. Always the romantic, Annie sighs, wishing she could have their happily-ever-after. As she drags a highchair over from the opposite corner of the restaurant, she sees them pass Will over the table as he undoubtedly wants a different view of the room.

"Sorry that took a few minutes. Here's the chair. Now what can I get you to drink?" The woman orders while the man struggles to convince his energetic son to take a seat in the chair.

"We'll just have coffee and water, and he'll have a small cup of apple juice."

After Annie brusquely fills their drinks, she returns to their table with her note pad to take their order. Apparently, Teddy is no longer amusing Will, since he is sprawled face down on the floor. The woman rubs the boy's back soothingly to ease his crankiness, and the man opens a pack of sunflower seeds and pours a few on the table in front of the toddler. That seems to do the trick—he swirls the seeds about the table, then picks up a handful and drops them, testing Newton's theory of gravity in case it is up for debate. Annie takes their order—waffles all around, and as she turns away, the man lightly touches her arm.

"Have you lived here long, Annie?"

"My whole life—I'm dying to get out."

"Why?"

"Because it's boring, I guess. You know, small town. Everyone knows everybody else. It's too safe. Nothing ever changes. Why do you ask?"

"Well, we've been moving around a lot, and we're looking for a quiet place to call home. Safe and boring sounds nice, actually."

"Then you should stay in Kendrick's Hope. I say I hate it, but it has been a nice place to grow up. If you don't mind my asking, what do you and your wife do for a living? Have your jobs been making you travel?"

The man and woman exchange a quick glance over the table before he speaks. "Um, I'm a teacher—psychology, and my wife is a doctor."

"There's a community college and a hospital downtown. It may not be as fancy as wherever you came from, but you'd get work here easily."

"That sounds great, Annie. Thanks."

When she returns with their meal and extra maple syrup, the man is in the bathroom, and she tentatively speaks to the quiet woman.

"I know this probably sounds really stupid, but I just wanted to tell you…how perfect your family seems to fit together. I wish I'd had that much love in my home, growing up. What is it like to live a fairytale?"

The woman squints her blue eyes, pondering for a moment, and then smiles.

"I suppose it's a lot like moonlight…and waffles."

Annie nods seriously, pretending she understands what that means.

While she clears the table, she watches them through the window as they strap Will into his car seat and drive away in their Ford Taurus. _I hope I find love._

**My Thanks…**

**To Gillian, David, and Chris- the owners of these characters**

**To my best friend and beta who will forever be the Merry to my Pippin and the Broccoli to my Cauliflower**

**To my room mates who put up with my insanity**

**To everyone who read this story and everyone who left reviews—I really appreciate it! **

**To X Files authors Prufrock's Love, MD1016, and Leyla Harrison, who inspire me**

**Knight**


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